by Trent Evans
Once she’d even have believed it, but at that moment, she was no longer so sure.
Her back to him, she unsnapped the catch, the feel of him watching her in the quiet room seeming to amplify even the smallest sounds, the drumbeat of her heart in her ears, the tiny creak of a floorboard beneath Ford’s boots, the faint tick-tick of the analog clock high up on the white painted wall behind the Sheriff’s tidy desk.
She froze as something brushed against her bottom. It was so faint, she wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it.
Did he just…?
And what if he had touched her ass? It wasn’t as if her pussy hadn’t clenched tight at the thought of it, no matter how wrong all of this was.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled the lace from her arms, the movement making her acutely aware of the weight of her now unfettered breasts. She held her bra at her side for him.
He snatched it from her hand, making a low humming behind her as he looked it over for a long moment. Gathering her soft breasts between her arms to keep them from swinging, she waited, sure he was getting more than a good look at her brassiere.
“Okay, you’re good,” he finally said, draping the lace over her naked shoulder.
“Can I get dressed now?” Falon scrambled to put on her bra again, reaching up for her shirt.
“Not just yet,” he said behind her, his big hand closing on her forearm and bringing it back down to her side.
Her heart rate increased as she felt the air pressure change, Ford stepping closer, the proximity of his muscled body like electricity across her exposed skin.
What the fuck is going on here?
But part of her knew, and she stayed as still as she could, her breasts heaving, her breathing increasing by the second. What was he going to do to her? Hadn’t this gone way beyond a garden variety search?
She wanted to look back at him, to berate him some more for crossing about fifty unspoken lines… but she didn’t. Somehow she knew it would break the spell, snap them out of whatever it was happening at that moment. So she stared at the perfect white tile, wondering inside whether or not she wanted that touch she thought she’d felt to be real, Ford crossing another line her body apparently already had.
I don’t know who’s more of a danger to you in this place, Falon — the above-the-law hunky Sheriff, or your out-of-control pussy.
His heavy hand clasped her bare shoulder and she caught her breath.
“Ford…”
“Stay where you are.”
He knelt behind her again, and for a fleeting, crazy moment she wanted to feel those way-too-expressive lips of his pressed to the back of her thigh, imagining what those strong hands felt like clutching her ass tight.
You’re unbelievable.
The leather cuffs were released from her ankles once more, the chain sliding across the floor as he pulled the manacles free.
“Get dressed, Ms. Moore. I’ll be right back.” Then she heard his footsteps on the floorboards recede behind her, the sound of a groaning hinge, and the thud of his office door closing behind him.
As she pulled on her pants she tried not to think about what had just happened, how her body had reacted instinctively to him.
Just nerves.
“Keep telling yourself that, Fal,” she whispered. “You know what that was.”
The door swung open as she tucked her shirt back into her pants. Ford stood in the entrance, holding up the keyring. “Looks like I was wrong. It’s your lucky day. You’re getting out of here after all.”
“I— I am? I want to make my phone call.”
Relief flooded through her, threatening to turn her muscles into jelly.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Ford said, striding over to her and slapping the cuffs around her wrists once more. “There won’t be any phone calls for now. You’ve got a date with the Council first.”
Chapter 7
He watched Falon closely as the Council members filed in, silently taking seats at the high table facing the room. A lectern with a microphone faced the Council bench, two long, polished tables stretching off to either side.
Ford was surprised when none other than Miles Corddray slunk in, dead last as usual, a suit coat the color of midnight slung over one shoulder, his trademark slicked back hair gleaming under the muted illumination of the overheads, his calculating eyes eliciting the usual unease in Ford. The man may have been brilliant, but he was a loose cannon too — and possessed a sadistic streak a mile wide.
Fortunately for most in White Valley, Corddray was euphemistically referred to as “Councilman at Large,” due to his frequent — and usually unexplained — absences from town. Ford knew Miles had businesses in Seattle, but he honestly didn’t care what the unpleasant man was up to.
Corddray out of town suited Ford just fine.
Leigh Harcourt, the senior Council member, took the center seat, her keen brown eyes fixating upon Falon immediately, her long, manicured finger tapping her temple as she rested her chin in her hand.
Von, still wearing his battered black coat from earlier in the morning, sat scowling at Leigh’s right, Corddray slumping down into his chair to the left of her.
Leigh looked over at him. “Nice of you to put in an appearance, Miles.”
Corddray shrugged, giving her a leering smile. “Never miss a Walk, right?”
Von snorted, shaking his head, the curve of his lips more bemused than pleased.
Leigh rolled her eyes, then turned her attention to the frightened blonde reporter sitting at her table of one. Ford stood behind the lectern, for once feeling less like the top cop and more like just a simple citizen.
He wasn’t sure he liked that feeling all that much.
Leigh pointed a long, slender finger toward the reporter. “I suppose I already know the answer, but are you going to tell us your source? These are rather serious charges Sheriff Mathis has brought before us, but I’m honestly more interested in the troublemaker who’s feeding you this nonsense.”
Leaning forward, Falon began to speak, but her voice faltered. Her throat worked as she looked down, composing herself, her bound hands kept on her lap, hidden by the table where she sat.
“My source is hardly a troublemaker — and from what I saw today? Their information was about as far from nonsense as it comes.”
Ford looked back at her, surprised momentarily at Falon’s response, her voice belying a confidence he suspected she didn’t feel.
“And I don’t suppose you’re willing to turn over any information not already obtained by Sheriff Mathis?”
“Is this a hearing?” Falon looked around, then glared at Ford. “I sort of need a lawyer, you know.”
“This isn’t a courtroom, nor is this a hearing, young lady,” Leigh said, her voice cool. “I suggest you start talking though. The sooner we get this straightened out, the sooner you might get to see Portland again.”
“You ever hear of something called the First Amendment? Oh, and the Fourth Amendment too?” Falon’s eyes glinted, but she’d gone pale, her lips betraying the tiniest tremble. He had to admire her strength, considering the circumstances.
He still wanted to paddle her ass for what she’d done, but he was impressed with her spirit nonetheless.
Whoa, Ford.
“Quoting your constitutional rights isn’t going to do you a bit of good here, Ms. Moore.” Leigh pursed her lips, flicking a glance at Ford before returning her attention to the stubborn young woman. “I’m certain our Sheriff has advised you of same, has he not?”
Falon frowned, looking away. “Yeah, something like that. This is insane.”
“I’ll ask one more time: will you turn over any information you have that is not already in the custody of Sheriff Mathis?” Leigh’s lips drew down to a thin line. “Answer quickly, girl. I’m getting tired of this.”
Ford covered his smile with his hand. The woman was the lone judge in White Valley, and in his capacity as Sheriff, he’d been to more than a few hearings wher
e he’d seen Leigh Harcourt’s no-bullshit manner on full display.
Von’s arms were crossed, a slight frown creasing his lips, but otherwise he watched in silence. Miles was making a point of looking at his phone, but Ford wasn’t fooled; the man’s eyes went back to Falon each time she spoke. He was paying very close attention indeed.
“The answer is no,” Falon said, her eyes shooting daggers now.
Leigh sighed, then fixed her gaze upon Ford. “Approach, Sheriff Mathis.”
Now, this was unusual.
He walked to the council table, laying an arm across the top in front of Von and turning slightly to enable him to keep Falon in view.
Miles had put down his phone, but Ford noted his eyes still hadn’t left Falon.
Interesting.
“Well, we have a problem, Sheriff,” Leigh said, her voice soft enough to stay out of earshot of the young reporter. “What you’ve found is serious enough that we have to do something about this.”
“Just leave her in the klink. Let her sweat it out. She’ll get tired of it, eventually.”
As appealing as that idea was in one sense — it would make Ford’s workdays infinitely less monotonous — he knew it wouldn’t work.
“She’s a reporter, Von. She stays gone long enough, somebody — maybe a lot of somebodies — will start asking questions.”
“Sheriff’s right,” Leigh said, stroking a finger along her lip. “We may have her in custody, but if this gets splashed all over, God knows what happens next.” She looked at Miles. “Could we weather something this? Let it blow over?”
Miles’ cold blue eyes regarded Leigh for a moment, then he glanced at Ford and Von both. “This isn’t something that would just blow over. Best case, we’d have a flood of tourists, weirdos, and hedonists. We’d be the fucking kink Roswell.” The muscle bunched at the corner of Miles’ jaw. “Worst case, we’d have staties, and probably Feds, sniffing around. Do any of you want that?” He looked at Ford. “Do any of you believe our way of life survives that intact?”
“Jesus,” Von said, rubbing a hand over his face. “I thought you bloodsucking lawyers can make this shit go away?”
Miles’ sneer dripped with disdain. “Money makes shit go away, Ellison. You think money means a squirt of piss to a crusading fresh-out-of-J-school reporterette?”
Von stared at the table a moment, his fingers tapping it. “There is one thing we could try.” He locked his gaze with Ford. “But it’s gonna involve you.”
“How has this not involved me? I’m the Sheriff...”
“This would go… beyond that.”
Both Miles and Leigh looked over at Von.
“Something tells me I’m not gonna like this,” Ford muttered, glancing back at Falon. She watched them intently, her gaze sliding to his, questions clear in her pretty eyes.
He didn’t understand the sudden sense of sympathy — and possessiveness — that washed over him at that moment. Shaking it off, he turned back to the council members.
“We make her a Temporary Ward. We offer her a once in a lifetime chance at showing her what this place is really about — that it’s not what her source is telling her. She sticks around here long enough, especially as a Temp Ward, she can’t help but see she’s had the wrong idea all along.”
Ford opened his mouth to protest, then closed it.
Maybe.
“I…might work, but the problem is — she’d never in a million years go for it.”
Miles’ sneer morphed to a smile in an instant. “I like the idea. It keeps her here for the duration. If she’s here, we can keep tabs on her, control her.”
Ford wondered who would end up taking custody of Falon Moore if indeed lightning struck and she agreed to the crazy idea.
He didn’t like the strong surge of selfish jealousy at the thought of Falon being under a man’s thumb.
Any other man than you, right?
“Temporary Ward status hasn’t been granted in over a year though,” Leigh said, tilting her head in Falon’s direction. “You think she’s got what it takes?”
They grew silent, then Von chuckled softly. “One person here does.”
Ford snorted. “I don’t think I know what you mean.”
Miles’ smile was now a broad grin. “Perfect. Ford’s just the man for it, actually. If anyone can get her to come around, our Sheriff can. First smart thing you’ve said in months, Ellison.”
“Go fuck yourself, Corddray.”
“That’s enough,” Leigh barked, her voice a harsh whisper.
Falon’s eyes went wider, but it wasn’t clear she’d really heard anything.
“We give her an ultimatum then. Ward status, and a chance at her big story, or we ruin her.” She looked at Miles. “You still have contacts in Portland, right?”
He nodded. “A few. I could make her life difficult, but it’s still a bluff, in the end.” He raised his chin. “The real question is whether her little crush on Ford is enough to get her to say yes. If it isn’t, we’re screwed.”
“There’s no crush — from either end,” Ford muttered.
Miles’ eyes narrowed. “Now, I didn’t suggest there was from your end though, did I? Something you want to share with us, Sheriff?”
Ford scowled at him, but didn’t respond, knowing he’d already said too much. The man was a smarmy prick, but he was a smart one too. Ford couldn’t deny the idea of Falon as his ward appealed to him in a base, instinctive way. A lot. But at the same time, he had zero confidence that she’d go for it.
Worse, he had less than zero confidence that he was prepared for such a thing.
Sarah had said it best. He was… wrong. What he needed, was wrong. Being in charge of a Temporary Ward entailed a huge responsibility… and immense power.
And opportunity to see how things go.
He shrugged, shaking his head. “This is never gonna work, but I’ll play along.”
“Thank you, Sheriff,” Leigh said, giving him a little nod toward the table where Falon waited.
Von gave him a last knowing arch of an eyebrow as Ford headed back to Falon’s table. He sat down next to her, but didn’t make eye contact with the obstinate young woman.
Leigh put her fist to her lips, coughing softly.
“Ms. Moore, in light of your refusal to cooperate, we have no choice but to press charges on every count Sheriff Mathis has presented before us. You will be lodged with the White Valley Police until an arraignment is scheduled—”
Falon sprang to her feet, bumping the table with her thighs. “You can’t—”
“Oh yes, I can, Ms. Moore,” Leigh snapped. “Now, sit down, and be quiet.”
Falon dropped to her chair, slumping back and looking at the floor.
Leigh nodded slowly — Ford’s cue.
“There is… one other option,” Ford said, turning in his chair toward the reporter. “But it’s a little unusual.”
Falon raised her gaze from the floor, but all he saw in her clear eyes was despair and anger.
“We have a status called ‘Temporary Ward’ that we grant women on occasion.”
Falon sat up then, but didn’t reply.
“This, uh, status is intended to prepare women for their Walk — what you illegally filmed today — or as a sort of trial period before moving to White Valley. We’re prepared to make you a Temporary Ward so that you will see, from, uh, firsthand experience if you will, that what your source told you is false.” He clasped his hands together on the table. “You’d see that there is nothing wrong with how we live. How everyone here chooses to live.”
Falon frowned. “No way.”
“In exchange for this status,” Leigh said, giving Ford a subtle raise of a hand. “There are two conditions. All charges, except trespassing and failure to obtain a permit, will be dropped. You will receive a suspended sentence for both and released. If you abide by the terms and drop the story, those charges — both misdemeanors — will be expunged from your record in one year’s time.�
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“I said, no.”
Fuck, she’s not going for it.
Leigh’s voice went ice cold then. “Then we will have to move forward with all charges, and I daresay Ms. Moore, the jury pool in this town is quite disinclined to support activities such as yours. Further, we will be forced to file complaints with your employer, and begin the process of pursuing civil litigation against both your station, and their parent companies.” Leigh sat forward, her eyes narrowing, a finger stabbing against the table in front of her. “You’ll never work in journalism again, Ms. Moore. I assure you of this.”
“You fucking… this is extortion.” Falon’s face was the color of ash.
This was going off the rails, fast.
“Falon, listen to me. If you choose the ‘Temporary Ward’ status… I’ll agree to grant you exclusive access to a story sometime in the future, uh… a feature story or whatever you reporters call it. Something that would highlight what’s great about living here.”
He glanced at the council members. Leigh’s eyes went wide as she looked at him, but she didn’t say anything. Von looked down, shaking his head, while Miles watched them intently, his expression neutral, those pale blue, soulless eyes missing nothing.
“There’s one other thing, Falon. It won’t be a stranger who takes you — I mean, has you as their ward.” Ford took a breath, surprised at how hard it was to simply get the words out. “I’ll be the one taking custody of you. You’d be… my ward.”
He had no real idea if that would sway her one way or the other, but before all this mess had happened, he had felt something, some nascent attraction from her. Perhaps it was just a reporter’s wiles, or maybe it was something else. Either way, he had to take a chance — because she was in danger of making the worst decision of her life.
“You should know something though.” Leigh lowered her chin, glaring at Falon. “Being a ward means you do whatever your guardian tells you. Anything he tells you to do, or demands of you — you do it.”
“Anything,” Miles said, drawing out the word, his eyes flashing.